


Please

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Arkham Knight Genesis
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Dominance, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, Mental Anguish, Submission, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something changes when you're left to die by the only person you ever thought gave two fucks about you. Something grows deep inside of you that you only barely understand and when someone else comes into your life, even half willing to listen to the bitter song you play, you'll take it for all that you can, without thought, without hesitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask... it just sort of happened.  
> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: "beautiful" by DECAYS

Jay rested his head back against the wall, breathing out a sigh as he let his legs slide down onto the thin mattress he'd pushed up against a wall in his apartment. He could have had it all, could have stolen the money he needed from Bruce's accounts when he'd drained the money for Slade. But something had stopped him from doing it, something that told him he just wasn't in the business to be a rich man with rich tastes. He never had been, really. Everything had been too uppity for his tastes anyway, even back when he'd been _alive_ and all that. When he'd been Batman's Robin and not... whatever it was that he'd become now. 

He heard the key in the lock of the front door and he turned his head against the wall, letting it list to the side to watch the door open. The table sat between him and the door, so all he could see were the boots on the floor, the door closing, and then oh-so-familiar boots being kicked off. Bare feet approached the table and he caught the scent of Italian cooking. Not his favorite, but not anything he'd bitch about.

Sliding to his feet, he felt himself sway a little and he made a face, leaning down to snatch the half-finished bottle of Red Stag from the floor. He thumbed the cap off, letting it spin off into the floor as he wandered toward the table, steadier now that he had been standing for a moment. Plopping down in a chair, he pulled one leg up, foot on the edge of the seat as he took a swig straight from the bottle. The amber liquid sloshed as he settled the bottle onto the table, reaching to peer into the bag.

He yanked his hand back as his knuckles were rapped sharply. Looking up at Slade, he huffed out a sigh and sat back in the chair with a sharp creak of wood. "Not gonna mess it up, you know."

"That's for the training ground comment, kid." Slade pulled out two containers, shoving one toward Jason, tossing a plastic fork on top of it. "Respect for your elders is something you need to learn."

Jay didn't even think about it, he just snorted as he popped open the container, words emptying from his mouth without filter. "Oh yeah? Why don't you _make me_ respect you then?"

A bottle of soda thumped down onto the table and a second later Jason was yanked back in his chair by the hair at the nape of his neck. Slade's breath was hot at his neck, cracked lips pressing against his ear a moment later. "Careful what you say, _boy_. You imply things you can't possibly mean."

Jason's heart felt like it was trying to escape up his esophagus. He only sputtered in return for a moment before getting a hold of himself. A sharp shudder raced through him and he let out a dry-sounding laugh. "You only think I don't mean it, Wilson." He spit out Slade's last name like it was the dirtiest thing he'd ever had the misfortune of saying in his life. "That's where you're wrong." He finally let his eyelids fall closed, his breathing ramp up just enough to tease the edges of his point. "I mean everything I say and you always write it off like I'm too drunk to understand what I'm telling you." 

Slade shoved himself back from Jason's chair and Jason opened his eyes to peer up at the older man. He was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, his chin slightly raised, and his eyes cold and hard. "You _are_ drunk. You always are these days. It's disgusting how much of your life you waste in the bottom of a bottle." Slade picked up the Red Stag, slugging back a good amount of it before shoving it back on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Jay's lips twisted into a sneer as he reached for his fork, snapping open the container and shoveling the plastic utensil into it. "Fuck off then. And, hey, thanks for the food." He barely even got a bite into his mouth before Slade's hand was on his jaw, grabbing it hard and pinching, his chair reeling back dangerously, the wood threatening rather loudly to give.

"Swallow it."

Jason did as he was told, swallowing down the bite of pasta he'd barely chewed. The bottle was pressed to his lips, liquid splashing into his mouth and he drank it without thinking, just swallowing it down until most of the bottle was gone and Slade threw the remains across the room. It hit the far wall and shattered, leaving amber drops showering the wall and glass all over the carpet. Jay only spared a single thought toward it though, as the next moment, his mind was occupied entirely elsewhere. Slade's mouth pressed over his own, greedy and hungry. Jason responded with a groan, his feet pushing against the floor as he arched his hips up hard, already feeling the burn of arousal as it raced through him.

The chair snapped and for an instant, Jason could feel himself falling. A second later, he was stumbling backwards, Slade's body a constant pressure against his front. He crashed down onto the mattress harder than he could recall having ever hit it, his tailbone letting him know all about how hard the floor was for a few seconds as Slade pushed between his legs, and then it was all forgotten as lust took over. 

Slade's hands were strong, insistent on Jason's body. Clothing ripped as it came off and nothing about the encounter was soft edges or anything like Jay remembered from when he was a teenager. No, this was better. This filled him with aching wonder and a desperation he knew was born to lead him towards the path of fulfillment. By the time his pants were halfway across the room and his briefs hanging over the threadbare couch, he was harder than he'd been in months. "Please," he breathed out, feeling pitiful even as he said it. Jason Todd, _begging_... he was sure it was a sight no one would have been prepared to see. That thought spurred him to wonder if Slade had expected it of him. Maybe he had, maybe he hadn't. Regardless, it was out there already, said and done, and he'd see where it got him.

Strong fingers pinned one of his wrists to the mattress as two slick digits pressed into him. He hissed at the intrusion, but found himself arching toward it, even as his body protested it. "Please," he whined out again, this time letting his eyelids fall closed and his head turn away, cheek pressing into pillow beneath his head. 

The fingers retreated from his body, the hand leaving his wrist. The sound of a zipper being undone filled the air and Jay felt his pulse speed up, his cock throbbing as he thought about what was coming next. Panting, he shuddered hard, and spread his legs even wider apart, offering himself without words. His hands fisted, blunt nails digging into his palms, hips pushing up a few times.

Slade's hands grasped his thighs and the press of his body over Jason's own became persistent. The head of his cock pressed against him and Jason gritted out, "Do it... God help me... do it." An instant later, he cried out in a way he couldn't stop, feeling lancing through him and his eyes rolling back in his head as he was penetrated in one hard thrust. 

When he came back to himself, his palms were slick with his own blood and his abdomen was trembling faintly. "Please," he asked again, this time quieter than all the others, this time filled with the tears he had held back his entire life. He opened his eyes to stare at the wall, the faintly bumpy surface of it serving as a distraction as he felt Slade begin to move over him, felt the slide of his cock in and out of his body, and felt the way his own body reacted. His own length growing hard once again, the faintest amount of precum slicking over his hip where the tip touched each time Slade thrust. But the biggest ways were the emotional ones, the way his heart rate evened out and his mind let go of the fog he'd been living in for years now. 

For one bittersweet moment, he could see everything in crystal clarity. Everything Bruce ever meant to do, all of the good intentions and all of the bad. Each of their selfish desires and their varying degrees of what the greater good really was. And when he turned his head, he could see everything in Slade's eyes as he thrust into him. The man beneath the mask looked back down at him as he claimed him and Jason found himself opening his mouth one more time, this time with a fully different intent as he reached up to slide his hand over Slade's collarbone, leaving a faint trail of red behind as he moved his hand. "Please." His hand curved over Slade's shoulder and tugged lightly.

Slade shifted down over him, curling one arm up under Jason's arm, the other reaching between them and grasping Jay's length as he continued to thrust. Their hips met in tandem now, Jason's rising as Slade's thrust, the pair of the pulling apart at the same time and then coming back together. Heat pooled in Jason's abdomen and a fire burned lower below that, letting him know it was going to be over soon. Part of him should have been ashamed he was about to end it so soon, but the other portion couldn't find it anywhere to care. His hand gripped tighter on Slade's shoulder and his feet dug into the mattress as he began fucking himself onto Slade's cock, obscene sounds leaving his lips as he moved.

If he'd been more with it, maybe he'd have been surprised Slade let it happen. But as it was, he was already pulling back down into the fog of his own head. Alcohol and bad judgment and years of abuse rallied around him and he fought it off, pushing it away just long enough to reach out and grasp the slender hands of his orgasm, letting it pull him forward. Even as he felt it coming, the tightening of his muscles, the fire burning inside of him bright hot and white, he managed to gasp out one final thing, "S-Slade," and then he was falling, bliss whiting out everything. 

Somewhere, vaguely, he felt Slade let go of his cock and grasp both of his hips, holding him tightly in place as he fucked him good and hard for a minute or so more. And then he felt it, the throbbing of Slade's length inside of him, the muscle that gripped his cock tightly feeling every bit of it as Slade emptied himself into Jay's body. A few more hard thrusts came after the pause and then Slade was gone, standing up and going to the bathroom, the door slamming closed. 

Jason gave it a moment, letting the world swim back into focus before he used the corner of the sheet to wipe himself up and stumbled to his feet. Gathering his clothing, he pulled the salvageable bits back on and dumped the rest into the trashcan. He grabbed his food and skirted around the broken chair, settling on the ancient couch to consume his food.

When the bathroom door opened, Jay looked up, meeting Slade's eyes, and he found the same man he always had. The mask with the man hiding beneath it, the man he'd never fully thought of as anything but Deathstroke. It was as if nothing had happened at all. Jason gave him a nod and went back to eating his food, Slade walking past him into the small kitchen. Relief flooded Jason then, the knowledge that everything was still on track, that nothing had been derailed, letting him move forward. 

A little smirk slid onto his lips as he reached to flick on the dusty old television they'd obtained last week. Who would have thought that one little word would have been their undoing?


End file.
